Chapter Text
The alarm wasn’t exactly part of the plan. In fact, an alarm was the one thing they had been explicitly warned was the worst possible outcome. That was the first problem.
The second problem was Pietro laughing about it.
“No, no,” he said, zipping past you with an armful of stolen equipment, “keep walking in front of the sensors! That will turn them off.”
“Where is your sister? She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!” you shouted, slowing to a stop in front of a keypad-protected door.
“I think it is a little late to be asking where people are. We have the stuff, let’s just go!” Pietro’s voice echoed through the warehouse. You could hear the metallic clatter of his superhuman footsteps along the top of the high shelves. He was trying to scavenge for more, like usual. Always overstaying his welcome.
You groaned, rubbing your face with one hand while the other jammed a password into the keypad. It buzzed and flashed a harsh red, illuminating your face as the built-in camera snapped a shot. Luckily, you weren’t an idiot; you had a mask on.
“This password isn’t working!” you shouted over your shoulder. Pietro was nowhere to be seen, but he heard you. He appeared beside you in a fraction of a second, the resulting rush of wind blowing your hair straight into your face.
“Did you try putting the right one in?” He snickered, but quickly silenced himself when he saw the look on your face. Not because he was sorry, but because he wasn’t looking to get a mouthful of feathers, especially not when you were an unknown number of seconds away from possibly being ambushed by the cops.
He shoved the stolen equipment into your arms and bumped you out of the way with his shoulder. Taking an annoyed step backward, you focused your eyes on every possible entrance. So far, nothing serious.
“What are you doing? Hurry up,” you said urgently.
Pietro turned to give you a slightly exasperated look, as if he couldn’t fathom you telling him to hurry up.
“Five seconds, dragă.” He snapped, turning back to the keypad. His right hand became a blur, moving rapidly over the keypad as he tried password after password. Each failed attempt made the door’s alarm blare louder and the keypad glow red. Not one worked.
“Well?” you asked.
“Well…” he repeated, slowing down. “None of the codes worked.”
“How did none of them– How many did you try?”
“…All of them?”
You stared at him. He stared back. Neither of you had a good solution for this newfound issue.
Before you could even begin to say anything, Pietro slammed his elbow straight into the keypad. It sparked violently, and the screen promptly turned black. With an ear-aching scrape, the metal-reinforced door slid open.
“You could have done that all along?” you mumbled.
“So could you!” He snatched the materials back from your arms and raced through the doorway. You followed at your significantly slower pace, folding your wings tight against your back to squeeze through the narrow hallway ahead.
That was when you came to a crossroads. The hallway split three ways: a dark path straight ahead that led to a door about twenty feet away, a window directly to your left, and another stretch of hallway to your right. Pietro was completely gone.
“Maximoff?” you called out. Your voice echoed down the corridors without a response. Typical.
Suddenly, a blur of silver shot across the intersection ahead, a sharp draft whipping through the tight space.
“Right!” Pietro’s voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once. By the time you turned your head, he was already gone.
Taking his frantic cue, you bolted to the right. The hallway was much longer than it had looked from the junction, and there were no exits in sight ahead. Your hurried, heavy footsteps were the only sound you could make out over the blaring alarm overhead.
Then, the tip of your boot collided with something on the ground.
Down you went. The metal scraps filling your pockets spilled noisily across the floor as you hit the hard ground. You scrambled to stand, the thought that an enemy might already be close not even crossing your mind. The alarm was stressing you out, and you weren't thinking straight. Rookie mistake.
“Stay on the ground! Put your hands on the wall!” a sharp voice barked from behind you.
You didn’t stop to greet them. Scooping up as many scraps as you could grab in a single sweep, you took off at a dead sprint. They followed right on your heels.
Around the next corner, you finally spotted a door. The glowing green exit sign above it rang bells of freedom in your head. You could make it if you hurried.
The wind blew aggressively through your feathers the second you burst out onto the rooftop. The cityscape stretched on for miles below. It would be easy to lose them, whoever they were, if you could just reach street level.
Without hesitation, you leapt from the edge. Your wings snapped open behind you, stretching to their full span as cold night air rushed beneath your feathers. The sky caught you before gravity could. For one glorious second, you thought you’d made it.
Then, a thin, brilliant beam of red optic light carved violently through the air just inches in front of your face.
You swerved hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. They hadn't just followed you up; they were already waiting for you. Someone was stationed on the adjacent rooftop, cutting off your escape path. They had you cornered in mid-air.
Before you could adjust your trajectory to fly around the blockade, something struck you directly between the shoulder blades.
A sharp, agonizing crack spiked through your body. Every muscle seized at once. Your wings locked open violently as electricity flowed through you like a riptide, and your jaw clenched tight over your tongue. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t scream, and you couldn’t think. You certainly couldn’t catch yourself as you fell.
Your body folded inward as control slipped completely out of your reach. A muddled choke left your mouth through your gritted teeth, the closest thing to a cry of pain you could manage as the world spun into a blur. The ground came into sudden, terrifying view, and you hit the pavement hard.
A sharp, throbbing ache shot through every inch of your body, though it managed to feel distant compared to the violent tremors still rattling your bones. Your fingers twitched against the asphalt, useless and weak. Somewhere above you, shouting voices overlapped. You tried to push yourself up, but your muscles refused to respond. You were paralyzed, and for the first time in a long, long time, you were absolutely terrified.
Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate. Through your blurred vision, you saw a scuffed pair of combat boots stop right beside your head.
Above them stood a short, stocky man in a dark jacket, the faint scent of cigar smoke drifting off him. He looked down at you, completely unfazed.
“Got her,” Logan announced, his deep voice much too calm. Much too experienced. No, it couldn’t be the X-Men… He turned his head toward the shadows of the alley, where a tall figure in a trench coat was casually flipping a glowing, charging playing card between his fingers. “Get her in the jet, Remy. She’ll be out for some time.”
You closed your eyes. Or, more accurately, your eyes closed themselves. This was not going to be good.